Saucy
by The Mocking J
Summary: Luke is hungry and the professor hasn't prepared anything for dinner. Leave it to Emmy to save the day... But will she gain something out of this?


**[[**_**DON'T ask about the title. Blame Zillabean for providing this LaytonxEmmy prompt. I hope this passes for 'saucy' but it doesn't exceed the T-rating. Per usual, please inform me if it does. **_

**Disclaimer: **_**If I owned the series, LxE would be 100% canon.**_

**Spoilers:**_** None.**_

**Set: **_**Presumably during the prequel trilogy.**_**]]**

* * *

**Saucy**

To many, Professor Layton was considered an organised individual, analysing finer details that others might overlook. However, his close companions knew he could be a tad absent-minded on the rare occasions when he wasn't solving mysteries.

This was one of his absent-minded occasions, he had to admit.

Tonight Luke was staying at his house for dinner, but he had no food prepared to quell the boy's enormous appetite. Regrettably, Rosa had caught a bug and hadn't been able to procure Layton's groceries for the week. Layton considered nipping out to the grocers' now, but that would mean leaving Luke alone at this late hour... Though, it was either that or Luke had to go hungry.

Layton had just put on his coat and located his keys, when the phone rang. He called, "Luke, would you mind getting that?"

His only reply was a famished groan from the dining room. "Sorry, can't move_... So hungry_..."

The professor couldn't blame him, so he went to answer the phone himself. "Good evening, this is Hershel Layton speaking. How may I be of assistance?"

"_Good evening, sir. This is Emmy Altava," _Emmy imitated his formal telephone greeting. Then she burst out laughing. "You sound even more posh than usual, Professor."

"Well, a gentleman must always retain a polite manner of speaking." Layton smiled at the sound of her mirth. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine, just checking you were home. I have some extra papers Dean Delmona wanted me to give to you."

"I was about to pop out to buy something for dinner," Layton explained in embarrassment. "But Luke will be here to let you in and I won't be long—"

"Hang on!" She interrupted. "I'm driving past a store right now. I'll pick up some food for you."

"That would be— Emmy, are you riding your scooter whilst _talking on the phone_?" He gasped.

"Yes," his assistant confirmed brightly. "I'm going into the store now. I'll see you in a bit." She hung up. Layton prayed she wouldn't ring him again before she reached his house.

"Professaaaaaaah...!"

"Remain calm, Luke," Layton assured him. "Emmy is on her way!"

Ten minutes later, Emmy arrived bearing two bags budging with ingredients. "Never fear, Professor Layton's Number One Assistant is here!"

Luke mustered a jubilant cry. _"Emmy!"_

Layton went to take the bags from her (Goodness— they were heavy!) and Emmy followed him into the kitchen, eagerly explaining, "I figured Luke needs something filling that doesn't take too long to cook. So how does Spaghetti Bolognese sound?"

"That will do nicely," Layton agreed. (He couldn't remember when he had last prepared Spaghetti Bolognese...) "Would you like to stay for dinner too? If you sit down, I'll have it ready soon—"

Emmy butted in, "Really? I didn't know you could cook. I thought you'd let Rosa take care of it."

He placed the bags on the countertop, unloading their contents. "Though Rosa would usually be here, I'm no stranger to the kitchen. A gentleman should have some practice at culinary skills, after all."

"_Practice?" _Emmy repeated, disbelieving. "Professor, this isn't the time for _practice. _Luke is starving— we're in the middle of a crisis!" Rolling up her sleeves, she marched to the counter and barged him out of the way. "Let an _expert chef _handle this."

"Emmy, what are you doing—?"

"What does it look like? I'm making Spaghetti Bolognese, of course."

The professor did recall her baking a delicious cake once. (Even Rosa, whose cake making skills were unmatched, had been impressed.) But how would Emmy fare at cooking a meal...?

Emmy scrounged through the professor's cluttered cupboards— "You _really_ need to tidy these!"—until she found a saucepan, a mixing spoon, a tablespoon, a chopping board, a knife and a bowl. She turned on the stove and chucked olive oil, mince beef and salt into the saucepan. "We're in a hurry, so let's turn up the heat..."

Layton gasped when the pan went up in flames. (Was she trying to brown the meat or _burn it?_)"I-is there anything _I _can do?" Layton offered to his arsonist assistant.

"You can lay the table."

Collecting the cutlery, Layton went to complete his meagre task with a sigh. (He checked Luke was still conscious at the table.) By the time he returned to the kitchen, Emmy had cooked the vegetables and was singing to herself as she rapidly stirred the sauce into the pasta.

"Emmy, maybe you should slow down—"

Suddenly, a blob of tomato sauce flew from the pan and onto the professor's face. Layton winced at the hot substance coating his cheek. Emmy covered her mouth, caught between spluttering apologises and stifling laughter. "Whoops! Sorry, Professor! Here, I'll clean that up for you..."

Layton assumed she would do so with a cloth. But no, Emmy thought her tongue would suffice. She darted forward to lick his cheek, eliciting a shudder from the startled professor.

Emmy hummed nonchalantly, "...Needs more salt." She dumped the completed Pasta Bolognese on a plate and handed it to Layton. "Give this to Luke. And when you get back, I might need some more help clearing up..."

Nodding dazedly, Layton took the food out to his ravenous apprentice. Hopefully Luke wouldn't finish _too _quickly. Emmy wondered how hungry the professor was feeling now... and if he would ever inquire about the non-existent papers Dean Delmona had 'given' her.


End file.
